Bank Robbery: Reloaded
by Sadistic Fox
Summary: Tommy and Sonny try to rob a bank. Rewritten version of an earlier fic. ONE-SHOT. Read it, review it.... love it


I know I know, if this actually happened it would screw up the course of events in the GTA games, this is just my own little work of fiction and is not meant to tie in with the game at all.

Note: This is the rewritten version of a one shot fic I wrote a long time ago. I'm trying to write chapters to one of my other stories, but I've got some writers block and I'm trying to get my mind going by doing SOMETHING. So here ya go.

Tommy Vercetti and Sonny Forelli sat in their idling, light green Kuruma. Tommy, the younger of the two, was nervously checking the clips of his two berettas. Sonny was sliding bullets into the chambers of his silver .357 Colt Python. After the weapon was loaded, he hefted it's nearly four pound bulk a couple times and appeared satisfied. Tommy put the two black berettas into the inside pockets of his long black overcoat. Now his attention was turned to the long, black Spas 12 gauge shotgun laying across his knees. He held up the weapon and racked the slide, pumping a shell out. Quickly he put the shell back in, opened the car door, and stepped outside. Sonny followed suit, the seven inch barrel of his Colt Python hanging lazily at his side.

Outside was a downpour of rain, pounding the cold cement like bullets. As a fierce wind kicked up, droplets stuck the two crooks' faces and soaked their dark vestures to the bone. They began nervously trudging toward the bank, Sonny's hand nervously shaking as he squeezed the black grip hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Tommy lugged his heavy shotgun, tucking the butt of it under the crook of his right arm. Puddles of collected rainwater caught the eery rays of the pale moonlight, throwing daunting reflections all around and causing the ambience to darken even more. They reached the door.

The old bank teller saw the glass doors swing open, momentarily letting the sound of the torrent of rain seep into the room. A small bell sounded out, reverberating around the quiet room and off the marble ceilings. Normally the bell signaled a customer coming inside, maybe to make a deposit or start their life's savings. When the teller saw a young, medium height man with soaking black hair and piercing blue eyes aiming a massive shotgun right at him, he couldn't help but doubt they weren't here to discuss their long term investments. Standing right next to the blue eyed, shotgun wielding guy was an older man of about equal height, very heavy set and a face that screamed organized crime. The second figure, the heavy set one, aimed a long silver revolver at the nearest security guard and didn't hesitate to squeeze the trigger. The old teller frantically began to say something. What felt like a powerful punch threw the teller backwards and caused his back to slam harshly into the grey marble behind him. The sight of his own DNA splattered all over the counter in front of him was the last sigh that he ever saw as he felt his life quickly draining out of him.

"I think we've pretty much established that we do _not _fuck around! I want the manager to stand up, take me back to the safe, and empty ever mother fucking dollar into this bag!" Sonny Forelli yelled in a deep, gruff voice as he tossed a brown duffel bag in front of him, watching it slide across the floor and come skidding to a stop.

By now the scattered customers inside the Liberty City National Bank were either screaming, staring on in shock, or crying. At a brown desk there was a middle aged guy with light brown hair sobbing. Sonny could tell this was the manager, and immediately ordered him to stand up.

"Get over the hysterics eh," Sonny looked at the name tagged pinned on the breast of the manager's white dress shirt, "Rick. Take me into the back.

Slowly and shakily Rick the bank manager stood up, tears of utter horror streaming down his face and staining his shirt. Sonny led him at gunpoint and disappeared through a doorway leading to the back of the bank.

Tommy did his best to keep an eye on the entire bank at once, swinging the shotgun barrel toward someone else every other second.

"Don't think I'll hesitate to shoot any of you dopey fucks! Just look at the teller! Now nobody move!" Tommy yelled.

A middle aged woman with shoulder length black hair, dressed in a purple business suit, was sobbing loudly. "I have kids, please don't hurt me."

"Stop crying!" Tommy yelled at her.

She kept sobbing, getting louder and louder. Tommy's nerves were getting more and more volatile.

"Look, I won't hurt you. Stop crying! Stop it right now!" Tommy pleaded.

She didn't stop, her sobbing only grew louder and more desperate.

"Listen! If you don't shut up..." Tommy said, irritated, "I'll.."

The sobbing continued.

Tommy could feel his body going through the motions of swinging the barrel around towards the crying lady and pulling the trigger, ending an innocent life.

Sonny kept his gun pointed at the bank managers head. "Keep loading the bag!"

The manager continued crying as he dropped stacks on Benjamins into Sonny's duffel bag. Sonny stared at Rick the manager dead-pan, waiting for the bag to be filled. When, after what seemed to be forever, the bag was full and the manager collapsed on the floor and started bawling uncontrollably.

Sonny smiled as he looked at the bag full of jack. "Thanks."

Now Sonny's Python was jammed up against Rick's temple. He pulled the trigger and watched as the fourth life of the night was ended.

Tommy was growing worried as he heard the sound of approaching sirens, he hoped Sonny would come back soon. In his nervousness he had let down his guard for a moment. Long enough for a younger black man with an athletic build to try to play the hero. He was charging at Tommy and managed to slam into him, knocking Tommy to the floor and cracking his head against the hard stone. Rolling over quickly, slight dazed, Tommy lost hold of his shotgun. The young wannabe hero kicked the gun away and stood over him with a triumphant look. His expression changed abruptly when Tommy reached into his overcoat and pulled one of the berettas from the inside pocket.

The young would be hero convulsed violently as Tommy unloaded four slugs into his red shirt. Specks of blood sprayed Tommy's face, droplets clinging to his skin. He stood up quickly and waved his gun around frantically in fear of someone else charging him. Everything was cool.

The sound of Sonny's dress shoes clicking on the marble floor reached Tommy's ears. Sonny appeared through the doorway carrying his duffel bag, filled to the brim with cash. The high pitched sound of sirens were getting closer, fuck, someone must have sounded a silent alarm. The sirens were closer than ever now, and the flashing of red and blue police lights appeared through the glass doorway, piercing the night's darkness.

Blindly Sonny dashed toward the door, not spotting the flashing lights. Tommy's eyes widened.

"Tommy! Get to the car, now now now!" Sonny yelled as he reached the door.

"Sonny!" But it was too late, Sonny swung the door open and immediately a fleet of bullets slammed into his fat body almost all at once. The force jerked him backwards, causing him to stumble and drop the duffel bag. The cops outside kept firing, shredding Sonny's body as pieces of flesh and clothing flew through the air. Sonny fell on his body now and didn't move again, a permanent surprised look on his face, and a blank and an accusing stare in his eyes.

Tommy tore his second beretta from his coat and desperately charged right toward the door. It all happened quickly as he blindly fired bullets at the blurry forms of Liberty City's finest firing back at him. He squeezed the triggers of his pistols as fast as his fingers would allow. As he almost reached the door, one of his guns clicked empty and he tossed it aside. Still firing at those blurry forms of police officers, and seeing the muzzle blasts of their standard issue pistols lighting up through the darkness, the heavy booming sound of gunfire ringing out through his head, he swooped down quickly and grabbed the duffel bag.

He knew he'd hit at least a couple of the cops, and he wasn't sure how many there were. He didn't stick around to find out as he sprinted to the still idling Kuruma. A searing pain tore through the back of his upper leg, causing him to stumble and almost fall and knocking most of the energy out of him. As he was about to hit the pavement, he reached his car. He tossed the duffel bag into the passenger seat and slammed his foot down on the pedal. The blurry silhouette of one of the LCPD became larger and larger in Tommy's windshield. With a sickening crack the cop met with the bumper of the speeding car, his form bounced like a ball off the windshield, cracking it in a cobweb pattern.

The most likely dead cop rolled along the top of the car, and fell onto the pavement with a dull thud, his own momentum causing him to roll a couple times. Tommy Vercetti, the bank robber in his lime green car sped off into the night, leaving a scene of chaos behind him.

He didn't look back.


End file.
